


sipping on your lips, hanging on by a thread

by sadieb798



Series: I Really Like You [2]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Wade Wilson, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Foreskin Play, Frottage, Light Bondage, M/M, Nicknames, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Deadpool 2 (Movie) Compliant, PWP, Peter Parker Loves Wade Wilson, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Top Peter Parker, Top Peter Parker/Bottom Wade Wilson, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, Wade Wilson Loves Peter Parker, Wall Sex, okay that's not true, older Peter Parker, peter's 24, the infamously long awaited sequel, the sex is the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15223331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798
Summary: Wade has been waiting for this since that first fic was written.





	sipping on your lips, hanging on by a thread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [venvephe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venvephe/gifts).



> “Finally!” Wade announces, his red leather mask allows him to aim a smile at the lovely readers. _Why,_ hello _there, reader._ “Welcome to the sequel! Take a seat, put your feet up, get comfortable and get ready to shoot a load!” He aims finger guns and points them at the reader, making little pew-pew noises as he wiggles his thumbs.
> 
> “This is all Wade’s fault. Full stop,” the author states dryly, her arms crossed over her chest.
> 
>  _“What?”_ he exclaims incredulously, turning to look at her. 
> 
> “I was perfectly fine _not_ writing the sex - ” the author starts before Wade interrupts her.
> 
> “Nuh-uh, don’t even!” he says, wagging a finger. “I was there - I _know_ how disappointed you were when you realized sex wasn't gonna make the final cut in our last fic.” The ex-merc’s white lenses soften as he looks at the author, and he continues kindly. “Now, you worked too _hard_ on our first fic not to write the sexy payoff Petey-boy and I deserve, and you _know_ it! So let's show ‘em what you can do!”
> 
> “Let’s just get to it then,” the author grumbles, face flushing in embarrassment.
> 
> “That’s the spirit! Bring on the smut!”

Wade has been waiting for this since that first fic was written. _[You know the one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15027875)._

He’s been waiting so long, it’s a wonder he hasn’t died of blue balls. If he _could_ die, which you know, he _can’t._ That would be the way, wouldn’t it? Finally kicking the bucket courtesy of his fucking libido.

 _Oh sorry, was that offensive? Doth my balls offendeth thee? Well, if you don’t wanna hear about balls, I got some bad news cupcake: you will_ not _enjoy this fic._

So the thing about Wade’s totally awesome boyfriend Petey is, the boy is really ~~freaking~~ \- _oh wait! This is an E-rated fic!! I can really let it loose!! -_ fucking adorable asking for sex. He would’ve thought that the confidence Petey-kins has from being Spider-Man would bleed over into his regular life, but no! He’s the same adorkable baby boy Wade met at Sister M’s _. And to think, I’d thought_ Petey _was a_ cold-blooded killer _that had stolen Spidey’s extra special hoodie and disposed of the body! Ha! First impressions are fucking crazy, right?_

Wade's heart goes a-pitter-patter at the fact that Peter’s still the blushing, bumbling tongue-tied, sassy as _fuck_ grad student and journalist who takes selfies and sells them to _The Daily Bugle_ that Wade knows and loves. What a guy, how did he get so lucky?

But the beautiful, wonderful thing about Peter is: he’s still a _twenty-four year old._ He _still_ wants the sex, and even though sometimes he doesn’t know how to _ask_ for it, Peter still _wants_ it. _Sometimes daily. Oh, yeah - my ass is_ wrecked.

Take for instance, right the fuck now.

They’re hanging out in that sad, little apartment over in Brunswick Peter shares with his two besties, Ned - a _cool_ bro _-_ and Michelle - a very _terrifying_ bro who gives Nega a run for her money - who have _finally_ left them alone.

Peter's in the kitchen, clad in nothing but the hoodie that started this whole business - which he _knows_ gets Wade fucking hot and bothered, the little minx _-_ and some checkered boxers. Wade’s laying on the couch playing Overwatch, relaxing in his sweatpants, the red leather mask to his costume, and a Sailor Moon T-shirt. Here he is, minding his own business, keeping his nethers to himself - when all of a sudden, Peter pounces from the kitchen doorway. Wade's Spider-Baby jumps up, flies through the air, and lands in his lap. _Judges give him an eight on the air, but a three on the dismount._

“Oof!” Wade exclaims, catching his boyfriend and subsequently dropping his controller. “You just attacked me!”

But his Petey-pie isn't listening; instead he rolls the neckline of Wade's mask up to his nose and starts mauling at his neck like a vicious horny hybrid spider-wolf.

“MJ just wouldn't _leave_ ,” he complains against Wade's throat, and Wade's only a man - _manish? human-ish? Mutant? Definitely not an Inhuman, he doesn’t have the hair for_ that _mess -_ he can't help it: he automatically tilts his head back for him, and hums contentedly when Peter nips at the scarred skin there.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Peter adds in a rush, pulling away quickly, his worried brown eyes meeting Wade’s lenses. “I love my friends, I’m glad I'm living with them - ”

“No, yeah, totally,” Wade agrees, his gnarly hands coming up to hold Peter's waist and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“ - I just would like to have a little more alone time with my boyfriend,” Peter says pointedly, fluttering his eyelashes at Wade, who throws his head back with a groan.

“You’re killing me here, baby boy,” he mutters, feeling Peter’s lips curl into a smirk against his puckered jaw.

“But what a way to go, right?” Peter asks, lifting up his head and giving Wade the suggestiest of suggestive eyebrow waggles he's ever seen in his _life_.

_See why I love him?_

“Hmm,” Wade hums instead, looking up at the apartment ceiling and giving his boyfriend a contemplating pout. “Too soon to tell, further testing is required.”

He gives Peter just enough time to let a laugh escape before claiming his mouth.

Wade could get lost in Peter’s kisses. For realsies. And for a while he does: it’s a delicious sensation of slick, sliding tongues, and roaming hands. The sound of smacking lips coupled with Peter’s breathy moans fills the deserted apartment, and it makes a heat like lava rise in Wade’s core. He blinks his eyes open and just absorbs the beautiful sight of Peter’s eyes closed in rapture, a pink flush spread across his face, and his luscious mouth panting as he grinds deliciously against Wade. _I'm gonna commission Captain America to paint that image for me, and then I can hang it up in my masturbatin’ place. That's allowed, right? He still paints in this universe, doesn't he?_

Peter’s wiry frame on top of his feels so grounding and _good_ . His fingers dig half-moons into the ruined flesh of Wade’s arms, and his kisses grow uncoordinated - his lips sloppily miss Wade’s by a long shot and instead land on his chin. Peter huffs an impatient breath, and before Wade’s even had time to process what’s happening, he’s being _moved._

“Eep!” he yelps, and his legs automatically come up to wrap around Peter’s waist as his boyfriend rolls them over on the couch, until Peter's lounging with both feet planted on the floor, and Wade’s straddling his lap. A bright trail of lust burns down Wade's spine and he can’t help the groan that tears itself from his throat.

_Spider strength. Thank._

Wade can’t help but roll his hips against Peter’s rising erection, can feel his own lil’ guy taking an interest in the proceedings. Peter stares up at him with an absolutely wicked smile on his lips and a delighted gleam in his gorgeous brown eyes. _There's Cap’s second commission right there_. Wade feels a grin stretching across his own lips and he threads his fingers through Peter’s beautiful coffee-colored hair, and brushes the strands back and out of his face. Peter hums sweetly and pushes into the touch.

While Wade’s playing with his hair, Peter’s own hands latch onto Wade’s waist, squeezing and massaging the worn thin fabric of his sweatpants. Wade knee-crawls closer, scooting on top of Peter’s _amazingly_ beefy thighs, inching along the Highway of Thicc, until Wade feels good ol’ lil Spidey beneath him and parks his ass down on prime real estate. He starts grinding, while Peter’s hands slowly take a journey of their own into Wade's sweatpants and around the globes of his perfect ass, practically finger-dancing until they reach his asscrack.

“Why hello there,” Wade purrs, raising an eyebrow. “Welcome back to the Rio Wade, we hope you enjoy your stay.”

Peter chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. “I _thought_ this place looked familiar.” He raises a flirtatious eyebrow. “Mind if I explore a bit?”

Wade gives a faux-careless shrug, still grinning. “Sure, take your time. We have brochures in the lobby and an expert field guide on hand if you need one.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Peter replies, as his dexterous fingers start playing with the crack of Wade’s ass, his nails biting into that very sensitive flesh and making Wade’s heart race. “I’m a bit of an expert myself.”

Wade opens his mouth to retort, but Peter pulls apart Wade's cheeks and he takes a sharp breath instead. Then Peter rubs his fingertips enticingly around and around and around his rim, like a fucking merry-go-round, massaging him gently before sticking _\- sweet fucking_ balls _that feels good!_

“Okay okay okay okay,” Wade chants breathily, fluttering his eyes open, his face heated underneath the mask. Peter, his beautiful little shit, smirks smugly up at him. “Okay, you need to stop now or I’ll come _embarrassingly_ fast.” _Again - last time was a_ lot.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Peter tells him frankly, making Wade’s cheeks burn brighter. His hand runs soothingly up Wade’s side, making him shiver and simultaneously burn with heat curling delightfully in his gut. “Do you wanna fuck?” he asks, and Wade wishes he could taste the word on his lips - it looks so delicious when he says it.

Peter’s index finger helpfully trails down Wade’s asscrack, distracting him from forming actual thoughts. _Little minx!_

Wade gasps, and he arches up into the touch, pressing his erection closer to Peter’s. _Are You There, Author? It’s Me, Wade: thank you for giving me sweatpants._

Peter inches his finger away from Wade’s ass - _why -_ and Wade slowly comes back down from his journey at the tippy-top of Mt. Lust that Peter sent him on.  He blinks his eyes open to the sight of Peter watching him, expectant. _Oh, did I miss something?_

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” Wade asks, furrowing his brow in concentration. “We forgot.”

The corner of Peter’s lips quirk up into a smile. “Do you wanna fuck?”

“Here? _Now?_ Why, Mr. Parker, I _never!”_ Wade raises both eyebrows beneath his mask and affects a scandalized Southern accent. Peter fondly rolls his eyes at him, huffing a world-weary sigh for effect. _That little shit._ “Just kidding, I’d fuck anywhere with you.”

Peter gives him a delighted grin, his face shining as bright as the sun and Wade wants to bask in it like a cat. He drags his hands up the planes of Peter’s chest and plants them on his shoulders.

“Do you have lube?” Wade asks, his already gravelly voice even rougher with lust.

Peter smiles, his eyes golden as he looks away and puts a hand in the kangaroo pocket of the hoodie. Coyly, he raises his gaze back to Wade, and slowly pulls out a little bottle.

Wade’s mouth drops open and he blinks rapidly. Peter breaks out into a laugh, the sound making Wade's heart play along his ribs.

“Wow, how did I not even _feel_ that?!” Wade exclaims, throwing up his hands.

“Because I’m a magical wizard,” Peter jokingly informs him. _What an adorable goober._

“Funny,” Wade says, tilting his head to the side and squinting, “you don’t _look_ like Benedict Cumberbatch. Although, sometimes when I nibble on your ear, I _swear_ you turn British on me.”

Peter’s grin goes soft, and he looks up at Wade with so much affection and love in his eyes that Wade’s stomach does somersaults. It's fucking unbelievable how much love this guy has for Wade. _Jesus this is sappy as fuck but it’s true, so sue me._

“For the record,” Wade presses himself flush against his boyfriend’s chiseled chest, and he can feel the cut-off breath Peter takes, his eyes tracking Wade’s every movement like a tiger. He cradles Peter’s jaw in his right hand, leaving only a centimeter of space between their lips. “My Hershey Highway is scrubbed of chocolate, _so…”_ he trails off enticingly, the fingers of his left hand toy with the strands of Peter’s hair.

“MJ will _literally_ kill us if we have sex on this couch,” Peter tells him point-blank, his _no funny business, Wade_ face making an appearance.

Wade juts his bottom lip out in a pout, but he keeps his right hand on Peter’s chin. His other hand, though, he removes from Peter’s hair and sticks it down the front of his boyfriend’s boxers and circles the shaft of his dick. Wade’s fingers scratch gently through the trimmed hair of his pubes along the way.

Peter draws a quick inhale, his eyes squeezing shut and Wade can feel his nails digging into his hips.

“Or,” Wade purrs, “we could fuck here, and I buy your roommates a _new_ couch - ”

“That’s not fair,” Peter breathes, blinking his eyes open only to glare up at Wade accusingly. But he pushes his hips closer, his dick sliding further into Wade's palm. “You’re playing dirty.”

“Baby boy, _you’re_ the one who started playing dirty when you put your fingers in my ass,” Wade points out, raising an eyebrow. _But because I_ also _don’t play fair, I_ have _to give his lil’ guy a squeeze._

“I _really_ don’t wanna move,” Peter groans, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on Wade’s shirt-clad waist.

“So don't,” Wade tells him. He flops down, lying his upper body entirely on top of his boyfriend’s chest, removing both hands to drape over Peter’s shoulders. In his new position, Wade’s lips are just a hair's breadth away from Peter’s ear, the puff of air he breathes against Peter's sensitive earlobe has him shivering in his arms. Wade whispers lowly: “Let me do all the work, honey - I'll make you feel good.”

Peter turns his head to the side to face Wade, and he can see a flame of lust ignite in his molten eyes.

“I have an idea,” Peter starts, his voice low and enticing. Delicious shivers run down Wade's spine, and he’s sure Peter can feel them with his hands still gripping his waist. _This is Peter's good idea voice - I absolutely_ love _this voice, it's one of my favorites._

“Ooh, baby I _love_ it when you talk dirty to me,” Wade coos, fluttering his eyes and squeezing his boyfriend’s neck encouragingly.

“It’s kinda weird,” he tells Wade, wincing in uncertainty.

“Honey, _kinda weird_ is my middle name,” he replies. _It’s actually Winston, but let’s be real: the way my life is, it may as_ well _be “kinda weird.”_

* * *

“How do you feel?” Peter asks, a crinkle of worry appearing between his eyebrows.

_Petey’s bangs look so weird like this - almost like he’s been jerking off a balloon and the electricity from the contact’s making his hair stand on end._

“Honestly, honey, I have never been more attracted to you than I am right now,” Wade informs him. Peter glances away shyly, looking adorable as he turns faintly pink.

 _Reader, you are going to fucking love this and I am so glad we’re on this journey together._ They relocated to Peter’s bedroom, after Peter insisted on having some privacy in case Ned and MJ come back early and, _ahem_ , interrupt them. The door’s locked and a helpful _Keep Out: Sexing_ sign has been webbed up outside the sturdy door, _guaranteeing_ them privacy.

“No, but really, babe,” Peter frets, taking one hand off the ceiling to trail it down Wade's Sailor Scout covered chest. Wade’s heart goes flip flop in his chest at the endearment. “Is anything too tight? Do you have enough circulation?”

Wade turns his head to glance down his arm, and gives his fingers an experimental wiggle. The webbing around his wrists is tight enough to keep him pinned up, but not enough to stop the blood from flowing to his hands down to his dick. He looks back and forth at his ankles, which are touching his ears, and gives his bare toes a wiggle too.

“Little tight around my ankles, sweetie, but apart from that I’m just groovy,” Wade assures. “Actually, can you bring a few pillows up? This is kinda rough on my butt and back - really itchy back there.”

“Of course, Wade,” Peter replies, pleased, a comforting smile on his lips. He crouches closer towards Wade, and starts sliding the webbing wrapped around Wade’s ankles off until they're free, and Wade feels immediate relief rushing up his legs. Peter looks down at his web shooters, his brow furrowing in concentration as he makes up a new set of cuffs and attaches them to the woven mattress Wade’s laying on. _It’s so odd seeing Peter’s whole face without his hair obstructing it._

“Better?” Peter asks, and Wade hums with satisfaction. Peter’s lips curl up into a smile and he leans over Wade to kiss him. “Be right back with those pillows,” he murmurs against Wade’s lips.

 _Now my non-specific-gendered friends, you are going to_ love _this. Guess where Peter’s got me tied up. Go ahead, guess. I’m gonna give you til the count of three, okay? One. Twoooooooo. Thr -_

Wade watches as Peter drops down lightly onto his bed and snags two pillows. He tucks them beneath his arm and scales up the sticky line that leads up to Wade’s spot on the ceiling. Once he’s got his fingertips stuck to the smooth wall, he shimmies one pillow  beneath Wade’s hips, and the other in the middle of his back, providing instant relief.

“Ah,” he sighs, wiggling against the pillows. “That’s better.”

_That’s right: I, Wade Winston Wilson, am plastered to the ceiling by my boyfriend._

_“How?” you might ask. Well, readers, my brilliant baby boy webbed a mattress I could lay up on here: it’s like an air mattress, with the weight and feel, but sticky. The whole of my back all the way down to my ass is sticking to the ceiling like a bubble gum, leaving my arms and legs free to dangle._

_Unfortunately no matter how thorough a job, Petey-kins did creating this thing, there are still spots that don’t completely protect my back and ass from the scratchy drywall. But then my amazing Spider-boyfriend took it one step further and created some cuffs to slip around my wrists and ankles, effectively making me stay in place right above my boyfriend’s bed and with the added bonus of bending me in_ half _._

 _That's right: wall-sex, baby!_ _Yeah, I’m looking at you, you know who you are. Honestly this is just like, a_ bajillion _fantasies I’ve had over the years of our partnership as Spidey and Pooley come true. It’s fucking awesome._

Everything looks so weird upside-down; he’s definitely the Sarah Churchill to Peter’s Fred Astaire, that’s for sure. Thankfully Wade's had enough practice being webbed up and hung upside-down over the years that the fact that he's a few feet above Peter's messy bed and cluttered desk isn't even a blip on his radar. Instead, all his attention is focused on his boyfriend.

“Do you wanna take your mask off?” Peter asks quietly, he brushes his thumb lightly against Wade’s leather-clad cheekbone.

A rock of discomfort lands in Wade’s stomach with a _plop_ , threatening to kill the mood, and he squirms, sweat breaking out underneath the mask. “No,” he says firmly, his hands clenched into fists.

“Okay,” Peter murmurs soothingly, his thumb still rubbing along Wade’s scarred jaw. “Just let me know if-slash-when you change your mind, okay?”

“Yeah,” Wade breathes, relaxing into Peter’s touch, his Sailor Moon shirt pulling across his chest. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Color?” asks Peter, using his left hand to trail along Wade’s side, his fingertips like a whisper against Wade's shirt.

“Hulk Green,” Wade answers dutifully.

“And your safeword?” he asks, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Pork and beans,” responds Wade, and Peter’s face positively brightens.

“Thank you, babe,” he coos and presses his lips against Wade’s as a reward. He hums contentedly, opening his mouth, granting Peter’s tongue access, which he gladly accepts like an engraved invitation. His tongue twists smoothly around Wade’s, making him moan eagerly.

Wade’s fingers curl, his hands itching to touch Petey’s smooth skin and deliciously hard muscles, to play with his sensitive nipples, to touch his beautiful hair, to circle his delicate collar bone - but he’s _not_ allowed. And being restrained - being restrained by _Peter_ \- that’s the hottest part of all.

Peter’s hands sneak underneath the hem of Wade’s extra-large T-shirt, then drag up his waist. His fingertips dance along Wade's ribs and the marred skin of his torso, before reaching around to his back muscles. Peter digs his nails into his shoulder blades, making heat rush from Wade’s face all the way down to his dick, which has started to harden again in anticipation.

Peter pulls his lips away from Wade’s mouth and starts to brush them down his jaw and across his neck, searing his kisses into his blistered and regenerating flesh. Wade closes his eyes, mouth hanging open and his breath coming out in pants, heat coiling down in his gut, and his heart pumping hard in his chest.

 _When Peter gets hyper-focused on something, it’s amazingly hot. Like, Bea Arthur talking down to a bigot hot. And right now, all his focus is on giving out kisses like Santa Claus. Only, you know not a creepy Santa Claus that French kisses kids; just like a holly, jolly, freely kiss giving entity - okay, yes, this metaphor went nowhere fast so what, shush._ Peter drags his tongue along the ridges of Wade’s shirt-clad chest, stopping at each nipple to kitten lick them over the fabric. _Except it looks more like he’s licking Sailor Mercury’s face._ Wade’s hands clench together and his eyes roll back in his skull. _Peter and Sailor Mercury, now_ there’s _a hot image._

Peter glances back up at Wade, his eyes big beneath his long fluttering eyelashes, his usually well-maintained hair swinging freely; everything about him _screams_ lust. _He'd make a good poster boy for it_. He pulls a hand away from Wade’s back, tracing delicately along the curves of Wade’s side and hip until he comes up to wrap around the base of his dick. The blunt nail of Peter’s thumb tracks up Wade’s cock, following the vein along the shaft to the head, and Wade shivers at the sensation.

It took a bit of practice when they first started playing with each other’s dicks: Wade’s uncut like a beautiful Canadian Noble Fir, while poor Petey-pie is cut like a diamond. _America, man. What’re you doing._ Since the only dick baby boy had ever played with had been his own, Wade’s own majestic and unfamiliar dick had thrown him for a loop. But after a _lot_ of conversations and practice Wade is proud to say that Peter can now drive his dick shift like he’s been doing it his whole life.

Peter’s lips press against the shaft of Wade’s cock, and Wade wants to coo at how cute it is.

“God, that’s adorable, Peter,” Wade gasps, hands clenching and feet flexing in their confines. He feels Peter’s lips turn up into a smile against his dick. “So fucking polite, giving a kiss to my cock. You would’ve made so much money as a sex worker: so _courteous_.”

“Wade, don’t be ridiculous,” Peter says, his eyes flicking up to meet Wade’s. “Not to knock sex workers, but you know I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Wade’s heart flutters in his chest with the intensity of a billion doves being released at a wedding. Warmth pools in his stomach, making his toes curl. “ _Peter_ ,” he gasps, blushing furiously.

“Why does that embarrass you?” Peter murmurs, his eyes lowering demurely as he continues to kiss up Wade’s dick and introduces saliva into the equation. “You’re big-hearted -” kiss “- sexy as _fuck -”_ kiss “- and so _goddamn_ funny.”

Wade’s cock thickens; he can feel all the blood in his veins rushing down to fill it, a dizzying sensation. His breath comes out as pants, and he squeezes his eyes shut to better focus on Peter’s kisses. He can feel his foreskin rolling down as his dick becomes taut, his Diglett popping out to battle. Peter’s hand trails down his inner thighs, short nails raking over Wade’s skin, leaving goosebumps rising on his skin in its wake. It’s so distracting Wade doesn’t even notice that his other hand reaches up and starts to delicately play with the folds of his foreskin.

But Peter stops moving his hand and doesn’t kiss anymore. Instead he’s just holding Wade’s dick but not doing anything. _Peter only does this when he wants me to focus on him - it’s kinda sweet but also annoying when things get really revved up._ Wade huffs a breath and opens his eyes.

Peter’s staring intently at him, his eyes bright with determination, the slight furrow of his brow serious.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

It’s not the first time Peter’s said the words, but it always makes Wade feel the same way he did when Peter first admitted it. _Swooning, like a goddamn heroine on a Harlequin cover and Peter is my much younger Fabio._ Wade closes his eyes and throws his head back, his entire body flushing so hot, he’s almost afraid he’ll explode like a bomb.

 _“Peter,”_ he whimpers, the nails of his fingers digging hard into the palms of his hands. “Love you too, but please _God,_ do something. _Please,_ honey.”

Peter hums, and Wade opens his eyes in time to see his plush pink mouth form a pleased smile, a pretty blush staining his cheeks. Then he finally leans in close to press a kiss to the crown of Wade’s cock and give a tentative lick.

Wade gives a full-body shudder, his legs quaking in their raised position, and his hands clench tighter. Peter laves at Wade’s dick, the sensation warm, wet and _heady._ He gives Wade’s cock all the attentive licks devoted to an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day: frequent and messy, determined not to spill a single drop. His tongue is a smooth glide that goes ‘round and ‘round the swollen head of it, making him writhe and moan.

But what’s even hotter is how Peter _looks._

Peter’s eyes have fluttered closed at some point and he looks like he’s in rapture. Wade watches, breathlessly, as he pants against Wade’s dick while his tongue laps at the whole shaft, his face flushed red as he starts breaking out in a sweat. Wade itches to run his fingers through that thick dangling hair of his and give it a nice, firm _tug_ that he knows Peter likes _._ Peter moans, and the reverberation of it makes Wade feel like there’s an earthquake down under that travels up his own body and his heart speeds up. _I’m still so shocked at how much Peter loves giving head - he was so afraid of doing it before, back when he was nervous about his gag reflex. But now? Sucks cock like a pro._

Peter slides his lips further down Wade’s dick, swallowing him down - _holy fucking meatballs -_ meeting the movement with his long fingers until he’s got a hand wrapped around Wade’s base. Peter's other hand comes up, his rough fingertips gently begin to fondle and play with Wade's balls, the touch more a caress against his sensitive nethers than anything else. Without pausing, Peter bobs his head up and down, and Wade’s being engulfed by heat, his dick inside a deep, warm cavern. Goosebumps break out along his arms and he feels sweat gathering around his forehead under the mask.

“Ah,” he pants, his throat trying to work. He squeezes his eyes shut, his fingernails digging into his palms; he can _feel_ his impending orgasm on the horizon, building up speed to shoot up into space -

_As much fun as this is, I gotta stop it. Sorry not sorry._

“Yellow,” he finally manages to gasp, and Peter stops what he’s doing.

Wade opens his eyes in time to watch his boyfriend’s lips purse and his wet lips pull off Wade’s dick with an obscene pop. _I just wanna record that sound and make it Peter’s text notification._ There’s a fragile strand of pre-come mingled with spit that’s connected from the head of his cock to Peter’s plump red bottom lip. _Jiminy Crickets. Third commission. I am now willing to spend thousands of dollars to paper my apartment with this exact image of Peter’s face._

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, his voice raspy and Wade can feel his cock protest the loss of its favorite vacation spot. “ _Come baaacckkkk.” Shut up, you selfish prick._ Peter loosens his hold on the base of Wade’s happy stick, and Wade attempts to breathe through his nose, trying to calm down.

“Yeah,” he gasps, his chest working like a bellows. Peter soothes a hand up and down the flank of Wade’s thigh, and it’s effective at bringing him back from the edge. “Too much, dun’ wanna come yet.”

“Okay, Wade,” he says with a nod. Peter presses one last kiss to Wade’s cockhead and pulls away completely. “Do you wanna keep going, baby?”

“Yes,” Wade replies. His breaths coming a _lot_ easier now.

Peter pulls the lube from the small spiral of web to the right of Wade’s shoulder, and a pair of latex gloves from the box beside it, ignoring the three innocent condoms arranged neatly on the web. _I know, I know - “Gloves, Wilson? Don’t you know you’re ruining the mood?” Fuck you, I have no idea when the ceiling was last dusted - I may have regenerative powers, but having an infection in my_ ass _isn’t fun to heal from. “But Wade, Peter’s just been touching your cock and balls, how do you account for that - ” SHUSH._

“Gonna prep you, baby,” Peter tells him, his voice husky with intent.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wade rasps, blinking his eyes up at the ceil - _whoops, that’s the Iron Man desk lamp, not the ceiling light._ Distantly, he hears the sharp slap of the latex gloves as Peter pulls them on.  “Go for it.”

Peter shoots him a smirk from between his thighs, and Wade’s fucking thirsty for that dick already. Wade watches as Peter pours a generous amount of lube into his palm and warms it up between his fingers. His initial touch is careful, running one hand up the back of Wade’s thighs; experimental. The gloves feel impersonal, but they’ve used them often enough that it doesn’t remind him of the Weapons X Program anymore - he knows Peter wouldn’t treat him like that unless they talked about it beforehand. _Let’s look at the biggest difference in the two, shall we? At the warehouse-cum-facility, no one treated me like I was something fragile; they_ wanted _me to break. Peter just wants to keep the pieces together_.

A lubed-up finger presses against Wade’s asshole, working its way inside. Wade forces a deep breath, relaxing against the burn of the stretch. He can feel the light trace of Peter’s nails through the gloves as his other hand scratches down his thigh, making his skin tingle and yanking Wade’s attention away from the finger in his ass. He struggles against the cuffs for a moment, an exquisite burn building in his hips that matches the one in his forearms.

Peter bends down, his hair swaying upwards with the motion, lowering his lips to Wade’s inner thigh and giving a nibble. He pulls away an inch or two and, looking pleased, laves at the mark. _Hickies don’t last long on me, and they’re pretty hard to spot, but I always appreciate the effort Petey-pie makes._ Wade can’t help but squirm, working to slide closer to the wet heat of his boyfriend’s mouth. Meanwhile, Peter’s slick finger manages to worm inside, and Wade’s hole clenches down on it trying to draw it deeper.

Peter’s eyebrows furrow in concentration, his eyes staring determinedly at Wade’s hole; that hyperfocus turns Wade on more than anything - he can feel his cock leaking precome. Then Peter’s gently pumping his finger in and out of Wade’s tight hole, and he has to huff a breath. Wade has to look away, so he stares up - _down?_ \- at the desk lamp.

But then Peter’s finger finds that bundle of nerves and his entire body flinches: his back arches, his head thrown back on a gasp and his already raised legs straightening out.

 _“Fuck,”_ Wade pants, the word pushed out of his lungs. Despite being able to wear it 24/7, his mask starts to feel constricting.

“That’s the idea,” Peter says, voice raspy. Wade can’t help the laugh that escapes and rolls his eyes.

“Asshole,” he tells him, his foot flexing in its cuff. Peter hums as he adds more lube onto his fingertips and starts working another finger in pointedly. “Can you take off my mask, baby boy? It’s starting to feel tight.”

“Of course,” Peter replies, and Wade whimpers when his fingers pull out. Peter slithers between his legs, casually caressing a latex-gloved hand over his cock, making Wade tense up with how it twitches. Peter’s fingers come to the sides of his neck, his fingertips just brushing his earlobes as he starts to roll the already half rolled-up mask up further.

Wade closes his eyes, fully immersing himself in Peter’s gentle touches until he can feel the cool air hitting his face and the top of his pockmarked head. He blinks his eyes open, and meets Peter’s. A half-smile graces his lips, and that soft and affectionate look in his eyes makes Wade’s insides feel ooey gooey.

“There you are,” Peter murmurs, his sticky thumbs brushing smoothly against Wade’s jaw. Without taking his eyes of him, Peter-kins tosses the mask over his shoulder, and it falls straight down onto his bed.

“Hi,” Wade says before Peter’s lips are on his. The kiss is more a confirmation than anything else. Each swipe of tongue, every wet smack of lips and gentle nibble is an affirmation that Peter’s got him; he can relinquish control and let go. He’s not gonna fall.

_Fuck, that’s hot._

Wade blinks his eyes open, going cross-eyed at how close his boyfriend’s face is to his. But that’s okay, because Peter’s expression matches his and Peter looks adorable no matter what. _He could be wearing a paper bag and still look adorable._

Peter smiles, pleased, looking down at Wade’s shirt demurely as a cute blush graces his face, and once again Wade’s hit with a strong desire to _touch._ The webbed cuffs around his wrists seem to tighten at the reminder that he can’t move - he’s completely at Peter’s mercy. He feels Peter’s fingers sinking back into his ass, delicate at first as they go back to massaging his prostate.

Wade’s breathes come out as pants, throwing his head back, his body lighting up like the Fourth of July. There’s nothing except the sound of lube squelching between his hole and Peter's fingers as they pump in and out, in and out, in and out and in and out -

_Why am I suddenly craving a Double Double?_

But then his ears refocus  and he realizes, distantly, that Peter’s saying something.

“ - so hot, baby, God you drive me crazy,” he pants, and the squelching sounds like it’s getting louder and wetter between Wade’s thighs. “Look at you taking my fingers so good, god I can’t wait to fuck you - get you dirty with my cock.”

Wade opens his eyes and practically _melts_ at the image Peter makes: flushed red from the roots of his freely-swinging hair all the way down to his chest, his entire upper body resting against the backs of Wade’s legs, sending a tingling, burning sensation shooting up and down his legs and hips where they touch. Peter’s eyes burn bright with lust, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, and he’s directing this look right at _Wade._ He feels like he’s _this close_ from being devoured alive, and that would be abso-posi-fucking-lutely okay with Wade.

_Fuck, it’s just money, who cares - someone paint me this. In oils, big, and put in a gilded third relief frame._

_“Please,”_ Wade begs, gasping, struggling to _breathe_ , much less speak. He’s aching with a burning need to touch and thoughts of _more_ race through his head. Peter’s already wide-blown eyes get darker, and he aims a heated look at Wade, his tongue peeking out to moisten his lips. It sends shivers down Wade’s spine, a wave of heat up his face, and his toes curl against the temples of his head. _More more more more more -_

“Goddamnit Parker, _please_ touch me,” he aches to get closer, to rip off these cuffs and wrap himself completely around his boyfriend, surround himself in Peter’s body heat, his scent, his _taste._

“Hang on, baby, I got you,” Peter gasps, running his latex-gloved palm down the back of Wade’s calf to his thigh, his fingertips trailing a blaze behind. The touch is like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal, and Wade squeezes his eyes shut, trying - _and failing -_ to calm himself down.

Peter pushes himself off Wade’s legs, the ease of pressure making them tingle as his nerves come back online. Peter leans back, the flex of his abs rippling and Wade’s mouth waters at the sight. _I just wanna lick him like a lollipop. A really buff, gorgeous, Cherry-flavored superhero lollipop._

Peter grabs up one of the condom packets he’d set aside, and carefully tears into it. Wade watches his eyebrows crinkle together in concentration as he rolls the condom on, his hair sticking up like Mrs. Frankenstein's Monster - only without the awesome dye job.

_PSA my friends: Petey-pie and I have already been tested for any STI/D's, and given the all-clear - but condoms make clean-up easy, especially while we’re playing on the ceiling._

He grips the shaft of his dick with one slick hand, spreading more lube before the bottle slips from his grip and falls on the floor with a small _thump,_ but it goes ignored. Wade briefly mourns the loss of seeing that beautiful pink head bobbing up at him in hello. _I love that little guy._ Peter oh-so-slowly pushes inside; it takes a second for the heat to bleed through as he slides easily into Wade’s hole, fitting like the magazine to his favorite gun, but soon enough Wade can feel the hot, thick warmth of him and it’s like coming home.

The sensation makes Wade arch up, desperately pushing his ass back to meet Peter’s dick.

“Oh _God,”_ Wade groans, throwing his head back against the webs, reduced to panting at this point. His heart’s thudding against this chest, trying to break free from its rib-cage prison.

His boyfriend, _bless him_ , doesn’t move while he adjusts to the stretch, even though Wade knows he must be just as desperate as he is. Despite the eagerness he’d shown while opening Wade up, Peter doesn’t push or rush; instead he waits. A snap of a glove manages to drag Wade’s focus back to Peter as he begins to remove the latex gloves. _Whelp, that’s gross lubed-up gloves on the floor we’ll have to pick up later._

Peter patiently runs light soothing touches up and down Wade’s sides, and he feels the familiar whirls and creases in Peter’s hands that he knows so intimately fondly reassuring him. The whispering touches ground him in the present, reminding him that Peter’s still here and waiting for him to adjust so he doesn’t hurt him.

After a while, Wade’s able to breathe calmly and easily, his fingers loosening their grip on his palms, and he blinks his eyes open to the beautiful sight of Peter on top of him, pushing his legs further onto his own shirt-clad chest, the backs of his knees resting easily on both Peter’s shoulders. _Now_ there’s _a sight I could get used to._

“Ready?” Peter asks, his voice pure sex and a mildly concerned furrow between his brows that Wade can see easily now that his hair’s hanging upwards. Wade can feel him clench a little inside of him, his cock pulsing and sending electricity crackling up Wade’s spine. Wade sighs happily, relishing the delicious hot fullness of his boyfriend’s beautiful cock inside him. Cartoon hearts start popping up around his head and his own heart sings _Hallelujah!_

“Hang on,” Wade says, raising a finger to pause him, and Peter dutifully waits. “Lemme just fire up the ol’ internal brain-station - see what’s playing.”

_Hmmm… “Toxic”, a classic, but nah - not tonight. “Umbrella”, nice, but no. Ah, “Pony.” My sexy jam. Perfect._

“Okay,” Wade breathes, giving a nod and Peter obeys his request.

_Now the moment I’ve all been waiting for: cocks in holes._

Peter moves and Wade wants to howl with how glorious it feels: Peter pulling out and then pushing back in, his thrusts teasing, hot and heavy. Wade throws his head back in a groan, his cock feels amazing rubbing against the smooth planes of Peter’s abs and a desperation to be closer claws at his chest. Wade rocks into the sensation, letting himself fall into the sizzling-warm, welcoming heat Peter’s drowning him in. He can feel Peter’s legs flex from beneath the corded muscles of his thighs, and his feet flap against the sides of his boyfriend’s head with each hard push.

Peter’s next thrust hits dead-center on Wade’s prostate, making him tense all over and drag a breath between his teeth. His toes curl, and his fingers dig deeper into his palms. He wants to _scream_ with how good it all feels; how he could _die_ right now and that would be perfectly alright with him. Observant as always, Peter notices how that last thrust made him react, and the next ones follow the first: pressing insistently on Wade’s happy button, and his body _thrums_ with the crackling sensation beneath his skin.

His hands can't keep still, his fingers flexing and straining to grip something, to _touch_ \- to run along Peter’s defined back muscles and chiseled abs. Sweat prickles along his forehead, and his lungs struggle to keep up as each nerve inside him flares brightly.

“Don't,” he tries, and, bless him, Peter's thrusts don't even stutter. “Don't go quiet. Say something, baby boy. Please.”

“What,” Peter gasps, a smile on his lips and his hair swaying with the motions, like he’s on a roller coaster going upside-down. Sweat’s gathering on his own forehead and instead of falling on Wade, like he expected, the droplets roll up his forehead and fall on the floor below them. _Fuckkkkkkk._ Wade’s cock bobs between them, slapping against the fabric of his shirt, giving a counter-texture to the smoothness of Peter’s navel. Lava churns in Wade’s gut, sending fire to blaze through his veins, and heat to rush into his chest. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” Wade begs, squeezing his eyes shut. He grinds down onto Peter's cock and his boyfriend moans, his hips stuttering momentarily. Wade’s lips curl up in satisfaction as he imagines Peter’s head hanging forward. “Just talk to me, honey.”

Peter huffs a laugh, and pauses on his thrusting. He presses Wade’s right leg further up and back so that his hips come right up off the pillow tucked beneath them, then his entire body presses against Wade’s, a line of heat. He folds him completely in half then resumes his grueling, punishing pace, and now Wade’s _really_ struggling to breathe. Peter touches his lips to his ear, and his breaths are hot puffs of air on his scarred neck.

“You’re perfect,” Peter whispers and Wade groans, his face feeling so hot, it’s like he’s burst into flames. Peter’s lips curl against his neck, pressing kisses there and nibbling gently while his cock pounds in and out of Wade. “I love you like this: folded in half and begging for my cock.”

Wade whimpers, thrashing against his confines, but Peter’s a chemist and he’s always improving his web formula: making them better, _stronger_ , so these don’t even tremble against Wade’s strength. _If I_ did _somehow manage to break the web, Peter would be_ overjoyed _. He’d stop everything he was doing, and work out exactly_ why _it broke, and what he can do to make it better; he’d get so engrossed in the science that he’d probably leave me up hereee -_

 _Ooh. Now_ there’s _a thought._

But Wade’s missed half of what Peter was saying, and he strains his ears to focus in on what his boyfriend’s saying between pants.

“ - you feel so good around my cock, I just wanna keep you here forever, and you’d let me, wouldn’t you? You practically tried to jump onto the ceiling yourself when I suggested this idea,” Peter laughs breathlessly, his thrusts getting _harder,_ aiming once again for that perfect bullseye inside him.

He sends sparks jolting up Wade’s spine, and it reminds him of that time he fought Electro alongside his boyfriend. _Now,_ that _was an inappropriate time to have a boner. Oh wait, we don’t have an Electro with this Spidey, do we? Then who the hell were we fighting?_

“I _could_ just leave you up here once I’m finished,” Peter muses, and it's like he read Wade's _mind_ , it's so hot. “Would you like that, babe?”

 _“Please,”_ Wade pleads, his body aching to come, it almost hurts.

“Please what?” Peter asks breathlessly, _the little shit._ He doesn’t stop his pounding in Wade’s ass, though, and he's grateful.

 _“Parker, goddammit, make me come!”_ Wade nearly screams. He clenches his ass tighter around Peter’s cock. A sharp gasp escapes Peter’s lips and hips stutter, making Wade smile smugly. “Please,” he adds pointedly.

 _“Fuck,”_ Peter growls, his eyes burning with fucking fiery intent, and the look sends a shiver down Wade’s body. Peter’s pace steadily grows faster, until he’s _ramming_ his ass, and Wade can feel the urge to come building like the tide.

“Faster,” Wade pants desperately, and he manages to rotate his wrists in their cuffs, so he can claw at the ceiling behind him. Peter obeys his order: he fucks him relentlessly now, his body rocking faster and harder against Wade’s, their breaths coming out as mingling pants. Heat, sizzling, crackling, _wonderfully_ bright, flaring heat grows in Wade’s core until he’s close to breathing fire. _“Faster,_ Peter, come on - ”

He cuts himself off with a groan when a particularly powerful Petey-pie thrust hits him _hard_ on his prostate. _It feels fucking_ fantastic _._

 _“Wade, Wade, Wade,”_ Peter chants as his hips repeatedly snap forward, dragging Wade closer and making his legs bounce with the intensity of how hard he pounds into him. Wade continues groaning, his head thrashing back and forth. His legs are shaking, a clear indication that his orgasm is getting closer, about to launch him into space like a rocket.

Peter’s fingernails dig deep into Wade’s hips and he can practically _feel_ their imprint deep on his skin. Peter presses his head in the crook of Wade’s neck, and his thrusts become uncoordinated, his moans and hot breaths against his shoulder make the sound reverberate all over Wade’s body, like someone’s blasting their speakers in the floor above them, making the earth shake. It only serves to heighten Wade’s desperate need to come, to let go, to -

Wade shouts as his orgasm rips through him, making his arms and legs straighten out with the orgasm. It hits him in the fucking _gut_ , and he could be careening through the multiverse for all he cares, it’s so _powerful_.

He’s still bouncing around Jupiter when Peter’s voice draws him slowly back down to earth like a balloon losing oxygen.

“ - oh my fucking, God, _Wade,”_ Peter gasps, his thrusts turning desperate. Wade’s body is still too warm and fuzzy from his orgasm to be overstimulated, and all he can do is moan wantonly into his boyfriend’s ears to show he’s still with him.

Despite being on the ceiling, they've still got some sweat on their bodies, and Wade’s shirt clings desperately to his upper body like Beverly D’Angelo clings onto Chevy Chase’s leg in that one _Vacation_ poster. The sweat combined with Wade’s come just makes Peter’s body glide against his own easier and it's so messy that his little guy gives a desperate twitch to rejoin the party. _Sorry, where was I going with this? Oh, right. But_ the sweat’s also managed to loosen the confines around Wade’s wrists, and he’s able to slip his hands easily through the webbed-up cuffs.

Finally free, Wade’s hands drift upwards into the roots of Peter's hair, briefly tugging and pulling on the thick nest as the whole thing sways freely. Wade's hands slide downwards to wrap his arms around Peter’s back, following the dips and valleys of Peter’s body until he reaches the delicious globes of his ass. He gives them a good squeeze, pulling him closer to him until it almost hurts.

Wade twists his head to Peter’s neck, and he looks so delicious, he can’t help licking up and down his smooth throat, and he can feel the shivers traveling throughout Peter’s body at the attention. Wade nibbles at the skin there, digging his teeth on the corded veins he feels underneath. Above - _below? -_ him, Peter groans.

Wade’s eyes zero in on the earlobe dangling beside his cheek, and he grins into the delicate skin of Peter’s neck. He tilts his head up, blowing softly at the lobe and deep inside him, Peter’s cock _throbs._ Wade lifts himself halfway up, and gently takes Peter’s lobe into his mouth, trailing his tongue teasingly along the curve before giving a gentle bite.

Peter gasps, and he thrusts _one, two, three_ more times before he’s groaning and coming, and Wade momentarily wishes he could feel his release, _but I still feel proud that_ I _was able to do_ that _to him._

Peter spends a few moments of his cooldown pressing soft, sloppy kisses against Wade's scarmarked collarbone and neck. Wade hums contentedly at the sensations, rubbing a gnarly hand up and down Petey's spine, while with his other hand, Wade curls his fingers into Peter's hanging hair.

Once he's able, Peter reaches up for Wade’s ankles and pushes the cuffs off his feet before lowering his legs gently, and thanks to the sticky web-mattress behind him, Wade’s able to lay flat on the ceiling, with his legs dangling - _down? Up? Who the fuck cares, my brains are gone_. First one, then the other, shifting them softly into alignment. Wade distantly feels pins and needles travelling up and down his legs as he flexes his toes, but he’s not concerned. Instead he wraps them around Peter’s waist, keeping him close inside him.

“Wade,” Peter breathes, his hands sliding up Wade's sides before sliding around his waist and encircling him in his arms. He presses sloppy kisses against Wade’s cheeks and jaw, making him hum affectionately.

“Wade, that was _amazing_ ,” he tells him and pride blooms in Wade’s chest as Peter practically glows. “That was so _good_ , thank you. Thank- ”

_Crack._

Wade and Peter have only a half-second to blink at each other in confusion before they’re falling, entangled, from the ceiling, pieces of drywall coming down after them.

Wade feels Peter slip out of him, the slickness from the lube making it easy, and he doesn’t even register the loss until his hole clenches on empty air. Luckily Wade’s brilliant baby boy had the foresight to have sex with him _above_ his bed, and Wade immediately curls himself around his boyfriend, shielding him with his body before they land with a _whump_ on the mattress.

_Just in time too: the plaster used to keep the ceiling in shape snaps above us like Graham cracker - split into pieces and crumbles on top of me. All that’s missing is the milk and it would be perfect._

Wade blinks his eyes open, the dust from the drywall floating around them before settling. He lifts himself off of Peter, the pieces of the ceiling slide and tumble off his body. Peter blinks up at him, his beautiful coffee-colored hair turned white with the plaster dust, and smudges of it all over his sticky, sweaty face.

“Oops?” Wade asks, trying to give a careless shrug but probably missing it by a thousand miles.

Peter breathes, unseeingly at him, staring up at the wrecked ceiling. _Oh no,_ bad _Wade! You probably hurt him!!_

“You okay, Petey-pie?” Wade asks just short of panicking, his brow furrowing as he runs a concerned hand over his boyfriend’s body.

“That,” he starts, blinking rapidly, “Was. _Awesome!”_ He meets Wade’s eyes, his lips stretching from ear to ear in the biggest grin Wade’s ever seen on his face. Despite the dust and sweat, Peter glows beautifully and Wade feels weightless; like he could float right through the hole in the ceiling and into space. Then Peter’s face immediately pinches with worry. “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I think I’ve pretty much lost all feeling from the waist down,” Wade assures, giving his hip an experimental wiggle and pain immediate shoots up his spine. _Whelp, bright side:_ not _paralyzed, but the hip’s definitely broken._ “But I’ll be fine.”

Peter expels a breath, and Wade can feel his lungs working beneath his chest. “Sorry,” he winces.

“Are you _kidding?”_ Wade asks, smiling down at his amazing Spider-Baby. “That was _awesome,_ baby boy! Ten outta ten: Would Wreck Again!” Peter smiles up at him and it’s enough to make warmth explode vibrantly in Wade’s chest.

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” Peter murmurs, not looking away from Wade. He can’t help but smile as he rests his body on top of Peter’s and give him a kiss.

They kiss languidly as they cool down, nothing serious except lips pressed together and roaming hands. They pull away at the same time; Peter smiles happily up at him, and Wade’s pretty sure he’s got a matching smile on his own face. Wade rests his head on top of his chest, and sighs contentedly. _It’s nice just laying there, feeling Peter breathe as his lungs expand and slowly contract_.

“MJ really is gonna kill us, though,” he whispers, and Wade can feel the puff of air against the crown of his bald head.

“Don’t worry,” Wade reassures, trailing his fingers idly across Peter’s stomach. “Weasel can fix this, his dad used to be a carpenter so he knows some tricks.”

_I have no idea if Weasel’s dad used to be a carpenter, or even if he knows any tricks. MJ is going to flay me alive. Again. Worth it!!_

“Good,” Peter sighs in relief, and he kisses the side of Wade’s head. He hums, sated. “Next time though, we’re having sex at your place.”

“Not until after I redecorate,” Wade tells him firmly as Peter’s arms come up to wrap tighter around his back.

“Redecorate?” Peter asks, the words a rumble beneath Wade’s ear.

“Yup,” he says around a yawn. He closes his eyes, tumbling face first towards a nap. “I’m gonna get a mural painted on my ceiling. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Thanks so much, [venvephe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venvephe/pseuds/venvephe)," Wade whispers in the dark. "For making Peter and me look good, and for being a truly fantastic enabler."
> 
> "Wade, go to sleep," Peter mutters sleepily.
> 
> "M'kay. Night night," Wade flaps a limp hand at the reader. "See you at the next one."
> 
> _You know the drill: comments and kudos to the real hero of this tale._


End file.
